


Let Me

by drbubblegum



Category: Karneval
Genre: Dorks in Love, Garegi, Hand Jobs, M/M, NSFW, Shameless, Shameless Smut, Smut, Yoreki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drbubblegum/pseuds/drbubblegum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weeks and weeks away at school, and this is how he’s welcomed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me

It rankles him.

Gareki hasn't been this pissed in  _ages_.

Over the past few years, he's become good at bottling up the vicious side of his temper, the side that calls for retribution and remembers the faces he should have been able to trust with a steadfast obsession. He's good at passing over the things that bother him, at tucking them away to be upset about later, when he's alone, when he has something to take apart. Something he can put back together.

So he sits against the side of the house, waiting for his anger to stop boiling. Nai is okay; he can afford to dig his nails into his palms and beat against the soil like a child.

A  _child_. That  _fucking_  word, and Yogi—of all the people to use it, it was  _Yogi_ —

Gareki tugs on his hair and grits his teeth. He swallows back the frustrated noise trickling its way up his throat. Not now,  _not now_ , Tsukumo is right there reporting to that asshole of a captain. He tries to push it into a corner, tries to focus on remembering the wiring for a time-delay detonator.

But then there are feet and Yogi's calling his name. He turns a baleful eye up at him. A  _child_.

Yogi's staring at him, a word caught between his teeth, and Gareki wonders for half a second if maybe, maybe it's something that can stop the one beating against his skull like a goddamn metronome.

There's a moment between them where they just  _look_  at each other. Little lines of worry dig in at the corners of Yogi's eyes, and he's been chewing on his lip again. 

He sucks in a breath. Yogi follows it down, throwing his arms around Gareki.

"It's been so long!" He chants it and presses his nose into Gareki's neck, clinging tighter like he thinks Gareki might disappear. Gareki finally lets himself think he  _missed_  him. All those weeks at Kuronomei and maybe everything between them is still there. He lets a hand pull at Yogi's coat lightly.

But as Yogi keeps babbling, Gareki can still hear the word echoing in his head. He hears it in every little word of praise, like Yogi thinks it's  _cute_  that Gareki can move faster, that he can keep up a little better with Circus fighters, that he'd lasted so long against Karoku and his knife. Yogi praises him like he's a kid handing off some shitty drawing. He gnashes his teeth together.

" _I'm not a kid!_ " He yells, shoving Yogi off. "Don't fucking treat me like  _Nai_!"

The door snaps shut, Tsukumo must have made herself scarce. She's always been pretty smart like that.

"Gareki—" Yogi's voice wobbles. "I didn't think—"

"I'm not a kid," Gareki repeats, not sounding as indifferent as he was hoping.

"Gareki—"

"I'm not."

He doesn't remember pushing at Yogi again. He doesn't remember straddling his hips or fisting his hands in that stupid coat of his. But here they are, nose-to-nose, breathing in each other's exhale, and somehow he finds it calming.

He remembers an arm wrapping around his waist, dragging him up and out of the path of the crossbow bolts. Yogi had been calm then, too, trying to reason with Karoku. Calm except for that too-quick pulse he could feel beating against his back.

Now it's his heartbeat that's racing, even though he's not all that angry anymore.

Yogi bites his lip, his eyes flickering all across Gareki's face, like he can't decide which part to read. Gareki focuses on the white of his teeth tucked at the corner of his mouth.

He should hit him. It's what he would have done—punch him, call him a dumbass, and then move away to watch the rest of the shenanigans from the fringes.

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth.

He doesn't really want to hit him at all.

Yogi's expression lightens, the beginnings of a smile curling upward as his mouth opens, starting to say something—

Whatever it was gets caught somewhere in Gareki's mouth because he's pushed forward, kissing him  _finally_. Yogi makes a startled noise, freezing for a split second before his arms wrap around Gareki again, pulling them both down into the grass. And then it's so,  _so_  easy, he wonders why they haven't done this before. All the moments when Gareki's been left breathless, when he's found an excuse to stick by Yogi, and they could have been spent like  _this_. What an absolute  _waste_.

He slants his mouth and tries to remember how this works, how to kiss someone and mean it, but he's not quite sure he's ever really  _meant_  it before. Yogi's tongue finds his first, clumsy and a little awkward, but he doesn't  _care_  because that's the name Tsubaki gave him, and Yogi's saying it like a goddamn  _prayer_.

It's only when his vision goes spotty under his eyelids that he pulls back, sucking in air. Gareki feels Yogi panting beneath him, and when his eyes slide open, whatever breath he caught leaves him at the dazed look in Yogi's half-open eyes. His mouth is slack, and his hands are running along Gareki's sides. For once, it seems like he can't speak. Gareki smirks. He wonders if maybe this is the first time someone's kissed him like this.

"I'm  _not_  a child," he says again, voice pitched low. He presses his mouth below Yogi's ear, and Yogi gives a strangled gasp. Gareki's smirk turns a little wicked. "So don't  _treat_  me like one."

"Okay," Yogi nods, fingers under Gareki's blazer and twisting into his shirt to pull him closer. "You're not—I didn't think— _Okay, Gareki_."

This kiss starts out almost sweet, soft with Yogi sucking on his bottom lip, taking his time, and all Gareki can think is that there isn't any  _time_  to waste. Sweet can come later, can come after— He pushes back hard, hands tangling and tugging at Yogi's hair. He swallows another noise of Yogi's, not really noticing the frustration of it, too focused on the hands gripping his waist, the chest pressed against his. For a second Yogi presses into him just as hard.

And then somehow it's Gareki with his back in the grass. It's Gareki with the slack-jawed expression and Yogi with his lips and teeth against his neck.

"No," Yogi says simply, breath flaring hotly along his skin. Gareki tries to remember how to breathe. "You're not. You're  _not_."

He keeps saying it, the words hovering between them as Yogi tugs at his shirt and as Gareki fumbles with the buttons of Yogi's coat. A warm hand skates across his stomach, leaving staticky trails that buzz through him, and Yogi's mumbling something about apologizing, about wanting to make him  _happy_ , to just  _let_ him,  _please_.

Gareki just hooks a leg around him, and fuck if nothing's  _ever_  felt better than Yogi's erection digging into his hip and his tongue on his and those long fingers skimming along his waistband. It's never felt like this before; then again, he's never really liked anyone quite like he does Yogi.

His mind whites out for a second because Yogi's hand is wedged between them, wrapped around his cock— Gareki curses, fingers clenched around Yogi's shoulders. Yogi hums softly, shifting his grip and moving his hand faster. The curses turn into a moan he tries to muffle by biting down on his lip, but Yogi's there, too, coaxing the sound out of him, kissing him deep and slow, and he thinks there's no fucking  _way_  Yogi hasn't done this before.

He bucks into Yogi's hand. He bites back another embarrassing noise, catching Yogi's lip between his teeth. Yogi's murmuring his name again and again, and Gareki's never liked it better than how it sounds coming from him, soft and breathless and just fucking  _beautiful_. His hands curl around Yogi's jaw, keeping him there so he can taste every corner of him. Little ripples run down his spine, muscles tensing, almost,  _almost_  there.

"Yogi— _Yogi_ , I'm gonna—"

There aren't stars or fireworks or any of that bullshit when he comes, just curly hair tangled in his fingers and his name floating in his ear, guided by wet lips and warm breath. When Gareki opens his eyes, Yogi's right there, nose-to-nose, breathing in the same air.

"I'm sorry," Yogi says quietly. As his eyes flicker uncertainly across Gareki's face again, Gareki tries to remember why on earth he's apologizing after all that. "Did I—Did you like it?"

Gareki doesn't say anything. He kisses him soft and sweet, running his tongue along the spot he bit earlier. Did he like it? Yeah, that was a word for it. This time Yogi pushes back more firmly, and Gareki can still feel his cock hot and hard through their clothes.

 _Right._  He grabs Yogi's shoulders, and he flips them over. Yogi's startled squawk turns into a groan as Gareki palms him. Gareki decides this is something they need to do again and again because he'll never get enough of the sounds Yogi makes or the flush across his face. It's a weird thought that makes his stomach flip. He's never been too terribly attached to any of his partners in the past. Not like this.

"It was great," he murmurs, running his teeth along the edge of Yogi's jaw before scooting back and pulling at Yogi's pants until his cock is free. Yogi whimpers, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Gareki's blazer.

Gareki gives him a sly grin before opening his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> [On Tumblr.](http://drbubblegum.tumblr.com/post/55741044583)


End file.
